


Not Only In Blood

by stuck_as_sarah



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Always Female Dean, BAMF Jessica, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bisexual Jessica Moore, Eventual Relationships, Eventual Smut, F/F, F/M, Female Dean Winchester, Multi, Original Universe, Pining, Pining Dean, Pre-Series, Sam Winchester at Stanford, Sexual Confusion, Stanford Era, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Unrequited Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 11:44:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4136214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stuck_as_sarah/pseuds/stuck_as_sarah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean goes to take a case in California and checks up on her little brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Only In Blood

Dean knew this was Sam's apartment. On more than one occasion she'd made her way to California. Despite how much their father denied cases anywhere near Palo Alto, they still got asked to do a few in California. Dean would willingly take the bullet for Dad. He'd look at her funny, almost disapproving, and let her leave, but not without a quiet grumble of, “Don't go to see him, Deanna. He'd be here if he wanted to see us.” No matter what her Dad said and how she'd blindly follow him, she had to believe Sam was right saying John just didn't understand. Dean did her research, pulling all the weight now with Sam gone. She didn't have him to bounce idea's off of, but occasionally other hunters would take her seriously. _Any chip off of John had to have some balls_ , they'd say. And every time she hunted with others they'd be proven right.  
John and several books briefed her on what looked like a swamp monster that was less mythical than everyone thought. The victims were all women dragged into mucky water to never come out. Because of this John was even more reluctant, but he said he'd settle on a nearby hunt and tell a few hunters of the case. She came prepared, weapon and a back up plan ready. John passed down the impala and it's hidden interior of all a hunters needs, filling his large truck with a fresh arsenal. _My best girl needs proper gear for huntin' down the worst sons o' bitches_ , he'd said. Long averted gazes drew out with the resisted urge to hug her father with gratitude. She'd huffed a thank you disguised in a cough and he left with a yeah whatever followed by grumbles about not scratching her up. She knew the guns were thoroughly and religiously cleaned. So with the special dagger in tow she drove the days drive to California.  


He was still in the same place. She knew the place, picked her way in and snooped enough times to make her way through it in the dark. Pictures strewn the walls of Sam and the girl he stayed with for a year now. She read the name on their mail before as Jessica Moore, knew enough to know she was good for Sam. He had a good life here and she just couldn't stay out of it. The impala stayed parked nearby. It was just far enough the familiar rumble dulled, but close enough to make out the front entrance. It was her current home till she knew the exact place to scout for the monster. General patrols at night weren't enough to draw it out. No doubt when she took the thing down she'd need a warm shower after even if motels only provided, if your lucky, five minutes of hot water. Dean knows their schedules and she knows it's creepy, but it's just generally. Most mornings at 6 Sam would go for a run, just like John had them do for training. Some mornings she'd see Jessica come out with Sam. She'd wear a white tank covering a blue sports bra to match her blue shorts, curly blond hair tied up messily. Dean couldn't place the origin of the sting of heat in her gut. It could be jealousy from seeing Jessica do what her and Sam used to. Or more likely the glow of her, heat at the sight of when they get back with sweat trailing down both their tanned skin.  


Dean felt sick when she thought how Jessica's hair reminded her distantly of Mom's. She used to hate not having the exterior traits of their mother, pictures showing the wave of blond hair and small peak of a nose. When Dean was young she'd stare in the mirror hating the brown in her hair, the random spattering of freckles, and the harsh jut of her nose. Growing up she realized she was lucky, wasting anger internalized at herself with much worse out there to hate. A bent bridge to her nose was better than being a constant reminder to John what he lost. Sam glowed like Dean remembers Mom did. His small nose and soft eyes reflected Mary, mirroring the few pictures they had. Sometimes Dean thought Dad liked the challenging and argumentative side to Sam. Knowing he's caring and understanding underneath the fight John knew some part of what he lost still lived in Sam. As lost as John was without her, Sam kept a fight in him, now that fire seemed put out too. Dean was all too like her father. They were ready to lay and drink for days over all the loss, killing a few things along the way to keep them going, keep a purpose.  


Seeing the beam of Jessica smiling to Sam, his burning new aching holes in her, she felt the familiar pang of fondness, of hope. Dean understood completely, but she still stayed. After the mucky trek from swamp to room she showered off green clumps and black spatters of monster guts. When Dad called, though, she said she was still hunting it. She piled excuses to keep her near Sam. She said the blade didn't work and she needed to do more research just to then say she's taking a break from all the books for a day to go out. The suspicious grunts and stabs of guilt for lying unnecessarily were worth it when she saw Sam. He'd leave for his jogs and give long lingering kisses just for Jess when she sleepily followed him downstairs to say goodbye. She'd see his bright, excited look heading to class with books in hand. The look reminded her of when she dropped Sam off at school, though now with less hints of dread and more comfort. Dean pretended she wasn't up early waiting to see Jessica leaving. Her beautiful curls bounced and glinted in the sun as she jumped from a curb to cross the street. She would sneak past the gate, up the stairs to the easy job of picking their lock, shoulders still tense on the other side of the door. Every time she wandered, looked through the mail and the fridge, as if she didn't already know where she was heading. She crossed the small hallway to the bedroom door. She eased it open to stand in the doorway as if waiting politely for the invitation in she wasn't going to get. Dean trailed her fingers over the top sheet of the bed. She pretended she wasn't mentally noting which floor boards creaked. Like every time she came in here there was a book on one of the end tables, identifying Sam's side. She stalled, identifying the cover as a familiar Dickens. She'd seen him make faces at it as a boy, flipping to the next page inhumanly quick. She finally rested on bed. Dean first bent to sit and grip at the sheets nervously then laying back fully. She slowly placed her head where Sam's had been moments ago. Sam woke up to this ceiling, turning to flick on this lamp, maybe rolling to kiss the girl next to him. Dean turned the pillow to hold to her chest, taking deep inhales. He could wake up early next to her, wrapped around her, pepper sweet kisses to her salty skin slick with sweat from sleep. Dean has no doubt that Sam's woke her up with his wet kisses on every part of her till she could turn to kiss back. Maneuvering flush against each other, Sam would pull her impossibly closer. Eventually they'd have slow and sensual morning sex, he'd make love to her and kiss her back to sleep. Dean felt emptier than ever, sobered with the reality. The all too real tightness of her chest causing a tremble to her shoulders with the urge to cry. Her thighs squeezed together at the confusing throbbing. The pressure of tears burned when she closed her eyes, a continuous quiver to her lip. The will to leave no sign of being here, not one drop of wetness on Sam's pillow, kept the rush of tears at bay. Her face heated and her harsh breathing passed an ache on to her stomach. Dean steadied herself with two deep breaths. The inhales reserved to turn her nose into Sam's pillow and smell just him each acting against her will to control herself. _One last time_ , she kept telling herself.  


In the end she was forced upright, the unmistakable click of the door shutting. Her emotions fogged everything, she wasn't focused on her surroundings, didn't listen for footsteps. There was no comfortable sound of the average person coming home routinely turning the deadbolt after them. Dean knew the sound of the door was withheld, hands slowing it as it shut, unable to stop the small noise despite the effort. Dean didn't lock the door again after picking it, a classic sign of a break in. Someone gone most the day would shake it off as being forgetful. Someone who just left knowing they locked it not minutes earlier would hesitate. It was her. Dean hardly heard a creak as she listened from the side of the bedroom doorway, back hugging the wall. Despite the adrenaline there was a spike of pride. Jessica still wasn't trained like them. A floorboard squeaked as she leaned to check the only other exit besides the front door. A window to the side of a small TV opened to a fire escape leading down an alley behind the building. Dean took the opportunity to take quick careful steps through the hall. She stayed as shadowed as she could to get to the small wall cutting off the living room and the small mixture of a dining room and kitchen. Jessica saw the bottom of the stairs out the window. The last steps never made a slow rise back to where they rested to show an escape through the alley. After the quick realization she made a smooth turn, not missing the brief gust of a figure. Dean knew the wall hid her, but when or how much of her Jessica saw she didn't know. Dean's heart pounded as steady steps came towards her, now not trying to be light, fully aware of them being heard, wanting them to be.  


Dean didn't have a plan. She was foolishly confident in herself, not expectant of this moment. Dean's fingers pressed harder into the wall behind her. She readied herself to do what she didn't want to, to do what she may have to do to leave with the least confrontation. She had to make a call, Jessica could either stop right by the wall or step further into the room. Dean had to choose instinctively, counting each step, when to jump. To either be caught in a corner and possibly cut off at the first attempt at an impact or a better chance of a take down when waiting, but more risk of their strides stopping earlier and making impact almost impossible at the delayed reaction. Her mind raced. Dean couldn't help desperately wishing John was here, giving her practiced signs for what the plan was. She wouldn't be here if she just listened to Dad. It was unmistakable that her steps stopped just before the wall, blood pounding in her ears. _What was Jessica doing, considering...something?_ She questioned. There was a moment that felt like minutes of Dean struggling to control her breathing before Jessica continued taking long sure steps ahead of Dean in the corner. She knew then she could've turned, ran for the door, maybe only giving Jessica a small glimpse of her. Dean knew she'd tell Sam what happened. The thought of Sam knowing she was here, know it's her immediately after hearing that a girl broke into their place, had her leaping forward less than skillfully.  


Dean hoped to at least get an arm around her waist, put the weight of her knee to the back of Jessica's, a foot around her ankle misplacing her balance and sending her down. The leap ended up coming with an audible scuff from her boot and Jessica ducked down far. The momentum from Dean's full body weight would've sent her falling right over Jessica, but Jessica quickly reacted with a leg sweeping out, using all her strength to hit at the back of Dean's knees. Dean winced at the hard pound of her knees on the hardwood, trying to catch herself on her palms. Before rising up fully there was a knee to her back shoving her down, face slapping against the floor, a strong grip tight around her wrists. A little more than just pride was spiking in her now. The air filled with their shared panting, minutes spent just testing Jessica's grip and trying to calm her breathing. They both knew when they gathered themselves. Jessica's pants subsided till her breathing leveled, Jessica feeling Dean's pulse slow slightly under her palm. The knee purposely ground her harder to the floor. “What are you doing here?” Jessica asked, voice steady. A pause stretched with no response from Dean. She felt two of Jessica's fingers slip under their grasp to get a direct pulse, pressing into the vein. Dean shut her eyes tight to fight off the arousal that went through her with a shudder. “What are you here for?” Jessica demanded. There was a shift in her a moment, her guard faltering. Whether it was her realizing the reality of the submissive hold on a stranger or the moment of worry for hurting this person looking to score some extra cash, Dean didn't care. She took the opportunity, swinging as much as she could with her lower body. Her hips twisted to the point of painful at the resistance, kicking a leg to hook Jessica's waist and force her over, a pound coming from her side hitting the floor. Dean moved her leg down after succeeding to sweep Jessica off till it wrapped thigh to thigh, twisting under calf intimidatingly catching onto her foot. Jessica's hands flew up to react with the fall just as Dean hoped, easily held to the floor. Dean thought quickly. That just left her other leg, at the feel of being pinned she'd surely recover and wind up.  


As she expected a leg came up, ready to extend right into Dean's stomach. Dean braced, knowing even if she let a hand go to try and block it she'd take a hit. She'd either take a foot into her stomach or a punch to the jaw. She didn't expect the knee to stop, fully wound up and ready to kick, against her chest. Dean shifted her gaze from the threat of Jessica's knee to the pale green of her eyes, trying to read her expression. Dean wanted to shift in the uncomfortable moment, avert her eyes, but she had to hold her ground. She wasn't sure yet that this wasn't a ploy for her to drop her guard. “It's you,” Jessica said, a stunned look in her eye and wonder in her voice. Her eyes were burning through Dean, darting all over her face with that expression of speechlessness. Jessica's fingers twitched as she kept up her analysis, drawing Dean's gaze to the wrist under her palm, eyelashes sweeping her red cheeks. Jessica just thought she'd been crying, that's the only reason she was looking at her like this. Her eyes glassy, face red, all saying she was crying without a tear shedding. It was just the surprise at her crying. Sam didn't tell Jessica about her, there's no way. He didn't spend a day explaining how he got here, why he doesn't speak to his family, omitting just the right amount to not full on lie to her. Imagining him sitting with her trying to say he has a sister and make sense of why he hasn't spoke to her for two years, eyes filling with tears as if saying she died, it just hurt. She's never thought of it till now. She steels herself, shoving the rush of emotions down calling on something she'd unknowingly learned from John. Her jaw flexed under Jessica's gaze, eyes blanking and meeting hers. Dean caught the moment of recognition from the shift of expression before Jessica expertly pulled all sign of emotion from her face. “Deanna,” Jessica said smoothly, not a hint of fear, not a question in her tone. “Dean,” she corrected, confirming unnecessarily. There was a sureness in Jessica's eyes. Dean didn't let herself doubt that she knew who she was no matter how she actually knew. Jessica eased her knee down, leg resting on the floor, moving slow as if to not alarm Dean. Neither of them broke eye contact.  


Dean felt that pressure again to let her guard down, squeezing Jessica's wrists in defiance from her instinct to let go. Jessica didn't falter under the added pressure. “We both know I could've gotten a kick and a punch in when you would've let my wrist go,” Jessica spoke slowly as a way of truce. Dean paused, lightening her grasp without letting go completely. “Jessica?” Dean dragged the syllables out uncertainly, not sure what else to say, but not ready to lose even the smallest of leverage. “Jess,” she replied, catching the twitch to Dean's lip as she said it. Dean first untwisted their legs, spacing out their hips before releasing her wrists slowly. Jessica, _Jess_ , flexed her fingers, rolling her wrist with the freedom. Dean rested against her calves, not fully standing till Jess bent to push to her feet, scooping her curls back with both hands. “How,” Dean started, catching Jess' eyes and taking a deep breath. “How do you know who I am?” She wasn't surprised at the questions, shrugging slightly, attempting to relay that she's not sure she even should. “He has a picture of you in his wallet. Only personal thing he really has.” Dean hides the ache she has at the thought that when she was missing him he could've been looking at a photo of her doing the same. If Jess sees anything change in her expression she doesn't acknowledge it. “Wasn't hard to piece it together,” she finished, nervously ringing her wrist between thumb and pointer. “Don't tell Sam,” Dean blurts after a moment. She isn't sure why she desperately doesn't want Sam to know she was here, but Jess doesn't seem surprised at the comment. “I don't have to,” she says and Dean just knows there's a catch by the tone of her voice, “but you can't leave.” Jess sounds sure in the fact Dean won't. It irritates Dean with how she knows she's right. “And what if I don't leave?” Dean tries to regain her snark, but she thinks she failed. “Then I need a way to contact you,” Jess says without second thought. “And when I say to come you do.” Dean quirked an eyebrow, smirk coming to her face. “Didn't know we were that close doll,” she jokes. “Were not,” Jess say without hesitation. “But you and Sam are.” Dean's smile fell, facade crumbling. Jess already knew how this would out play out. She waited a moment, not expecting a response, but reading Dean for any reaction. Dean tried to keep her eyes hardened, but knew she faltered, eyes softening. Jess sighs before continuing, sealing the deal. “I know Sam needs you.” Dean's eye twitches, a knife twisting in her stomach at the words. Her body tensing at his name in her mouth after too long of it being something jumped around, never said. Jess holds back any reaction, knowingly asking, “Deal?” Dean nods, desperate to get out of there, already stepping to the door. “I'll leave a few numbers for me in the mailbox.” Jess lets her leave, already trusting Dean more than she should. Still Dean does what she said, even writing the motel and room number down. Dean drinks herself to sleep that night, imagining Sam's smell on her pillow, trying not to hope he's thinking of her.


End file.
